A Home Underground
by trallgorda
Summary: Evey stays in the Shadow Gallery with the nutty vigilante known as V. What will happen?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I saw the movie last weekend, and it cries out for a fanfic!

Chapter 1

It was the hardest thing in the world to wake up, Evey realized. Her head pounded, she had a crick in her neck, and she was stiff and sore from not budging all night. What had she done last night that…

As her eyes opened, Evey realized that she was not at home. Even worse, she didn't know where she was. Thinking back, she remembered what had happened at work; running from the cops, and then seeing that strange V in trouble, and then feeling an explosion in her head after macing the cop.

Sitting up slowly, she looked around the room, taking in her surroundings. She was in a large comfy bed with a fluffy white comforter, but the rest of the room! It looked like some deranged librarian had gone mad in there! There were books piled along the walls, stacked up above her head, around the bed, and when she looked, she saw that they were under it as well. Some of the titles she saw were familiar but were on the blacklist, and others were strange.

Gingerly, she got out of bed and headed for the door. Something smelled terribly delicious, and her stomach growled. She was starving!

What she saw next as she reached a kitchen defied description. A guy dressed all in black wearing a Guy Fawkes mask was also wearing a flowery apron and oven mitts, and he was fixing breakfast. She got a shock when she saw his hands, and quickly, he pulled his gloves on.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "Breakfast?"

"Where are we?" she asked, still feeling a trifle dazed. "How did I get here?"

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down, feeling as if she had just arrived in the Twilight Zone.

"I brought you here," he said, serving up eggs-in-a-basket. "You see, after you saved me at the television station, I couldn't leave you there on the floor, could I? Also, you helped me. Thank you." He bowed low, startling Evey into a smile. "As for where we are, this is my home. I like to call it the Shadow Gallery, since it is full of things that have been forced into becoming shadows by an overzealous censoring committee."

Evey looked about. "It's lovely, V," she said, remembering that was what he called himself.

"Again, thank you," he said happily, pouring her a glass of juice while she dug into her eggs.

"How did you find all these things?" she asked, wondering if he had managed it all alone.

"Oh, regular raids on government vaults, things like that," he said lightly, sounding as if he were smiling under the mask. "You'd be surprised how rarely they do inventory in those places."

As Evey finished, V fought down a feeling of trepidation. She was not going to take this well, he knew that already.

"We have to talk, Evey," he said, sitting down across from her. "Do you realize what my bringing you here means?"

Startled, she shook her head. "I don't know, beyond having a good breakfast," she said. "I suppose you're nervous that I'd tell someone, but I can promise you I won't tell anyone. After all, who'd believe me?"

He sighed. This wasn't going well. "Creedy's men would believe what you have to tell. This means that you won't be able to leave until the fifth of November next year, Evey. Creedy's bagmen will be looking for you since you helped me and since they know you're with me now. I'm afraid that cameras caught me picking you up. I don't wish to have you in danger, and I can't have you where Creedy can get at you."

She became very quiet and stared at him. "You mean I'm stuck here…for a year?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I can promise you that it won't be unpleasant for you, and I will not ask you to do anything you do not wish to. There is plenty to do here, and very rarely am I ever bored. There are books, films, music; all sorts of things."

He didn't realize until then that she was staring at him, her expression horrified. "I can't stay here for a year!" she protested. "I won't!"

"And where will you go? How will you hide from Creedy? You can't go back to your apartment," he pointed out.

"I'll stay with friends!"

"Who would be taking very great risks on their own lives if they sheltered you," he continued. "It would be simpler for everyone for you to remain here."

He expected her next reaction: After shouting at him a little more, she got up, stormed out, and he heard the slam of her door. Sighing, he rose from his chair and began to clean up.

Space

Evey fumed for close to three hours before emerging to search for the bathroom. She found it, and was surprised to find that another door inside it led back to her room. Good. She didn't want to have to see that crazy vigilante unless she absolutely had to.

That night, sounds of a battle woke her, drawing out of her room and into the main part of the home. What she saw surprised her: V battling tooth and nail against a suit of armor. He was a good fencer, she could tell that much, and a movie was playing on the television. It was one of those swashbuckling thrillers in black and white.

That was when he spotted her. They chatted a bit, and then he invited her to watch the film with him. Once it was finished, she was a little tearful. Happy endings were always nice, but she felt a little sorry for Mercedes. After all, Edmond had cared more about revenge than he did her.

"Good point," was all that V said.


	2. Chapter 2

Masks and capes to my reviewers!

Gerfan—Doing so. Thank you!

Hastings North—Why, thank you!

Klashfor—I'm working on it. Keep reading, and I'll keep writing. Thank you so much!

Jinxeh—My thoughts exactly. I look forward to filling them. Thank you for reading, continue to do so!

Shadowvixen—I know! I loved it, too. In my opinion, it was the perfect combination of Batman and Phantom of the Opera. (Odd bedfellows, I know, but isn't it?)

Author's Note: Everyone, please keep reading! I need feedback for my writing, and I love getting reviews! They keep my writing bug going!

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, Evey and V fell into a pattern that suited them both. They would both be awake in the morning, have breakfast together, and then V would leave Evey to her own devices while he did work in what he termed the "office." Usually, he would leave Evey sitting replete at the table, astonished at the cooking abilities of a vigilante: eggs benedict, omelettes, fried potatoes, croissants, café au lait, Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, fruit or chocolate pancakes, and hot cereals with cinnamon all appeared at the table in regular intervals. One morning, V asked her if she would like to see the office.

"I figured I could remedy your insatiable curiosity before it becomes any sort of problem," he said, leading her in by the hand.

Evey stood in the middle of the room, looking around at all of the things in there.

"What do you do in here?" she asked, staring at all of the tables covered with papers and equipment.

"A little of this, a little of that, and a great deal of mayhem," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Evey had to smile at that. Every now and then, he would pull out a line that would be so amusing that she couldn't help laughing or smiling at him. It was as if he had appointed himself a one-man make-Evey-smile crew.

Evey continued looking about. There were file cabinets lining one wall, a computer consisting of several monitors and towers and two keyboards, and containers and beakers and pipes around a chemistry table over in the corner. There were old, clean tins and boxes covering one table, and on another table there were dozens of photographs of different buildings and people.

"Is that where you make the bombs and fireworks?" she asked, pointing the overgrown chemistry set.

He nodded. "And that is also where I injure myself on a thrice daily basis. Most of the formulas are simple, but they can be tricky."

Evey looked him up and down. "Just don't blow yourself into pieces, all right? If you do, how would I get out of here?"

V just looked at her, and Evey had the feeling that he was grinning behind the mask. "I promise. You won't find me in fragments."

They would meet for lunch, which either V or Evey would cook (it all depended on who reached the kitchen first at noon, and sometimes Evey would run into it when she saw him coming, even if he said that he could get lunch), and usually they had sandwiches, soup, salads, and a great deal of conversation. The afternoon usually sent Evey into frustration while she battled the clutter in her room, and V would once again disappear into the office. Evey was constantly surprised that he never heard her swearing at all of the clutter or yelping at the books that fell on her toes. V would always make tea around four o'clock (with buns, tea or cocoa, and toast with real butter or toasted finger sandwiches), and he always had supper ready around eight o'clock. Again, Evey was not allowed to cook, and V did everything on his own. Some of the dishes that appeared at supper knocked Evey's taste buds off their collective feet: quiches, pot pies, beef rouladen, Cornish hens stuffed with chestnuts, pork loin with apples, glazed ham, chicken or veal parmesan, lasagna, Creole dishes like jambalaya or shrimp creole, fish cooked in white wine with dill, crab ragout, portabella mushroom or beef stroganoff, and sometimes good, old-fashioned bangers and mash. They would finish supper and have dessert (usually something that sent Evey into raptures) and then they would sit together in the sitting room, watching films, reading, or taking one another on in chess, checkers, or some other game. These games often led to good-natured arguments which sometimes led to pillow fights and name-calling.

"Give up, you minx!" V would shout, tossing a tasseled silk cushion at her head. "I took your queen fair and square!"

"Never, you masked menace of the chessboard!" she would shout back, taking a different cushion and lobbing it at him. "And you cheated! I demand my queen!"

"The rules state—" he would begin, but Evey would always interrupt him.

"_Snocker_ your rules!"

Evey would never admit it, but she was beginning to enjoy his company. Her "snocker the rules" comment invariably brought the same reaction: "Of course you know, my dear, that this means war."

He would charge her with a pillow, she would give a delighted shriek and flee, searching for a sanctuary, and he would chase her about, promising pain and death with a silk lined eiderdown pillow.

Space

Slowly, Evey noticed a change coming over her room. The books began disappearing or being set into bookshelves that mysteriously appeared. Everything became much neater. A dresser, wardrobe, and vanity table appeared, as did an easy chair, chaise lounge, ottoman, and several rugs that matched the furniture. All of the furniture was in shades of white or cream, and a gauzy curtain was hung around the bed. When she found a robe and matching furry slippers when she woke up one morning, she went to find V to thank him and to find out how he managed to redo her room without her ever seeing him.

Evey went to the kitchen, expecting to find V there making breakfast, but instead, she found a generous plate of waffles, a bowl of fruit, a stack of toast, sausage, tea, but no V. Instead, sitting in front of his usual place was a note:

_Evey,_

_I am sorry, but I have some work to finish outside. Your breakfast should still be hot, but if it isn't, just put the plates in the oven for a minute or two. I'll be back around tea time._

_V._

Feeling a little miffed that he had gone (she _still_ did not know the way out of this place!) Evey sat down and had her breakfast. Afterward, she cleaned up, tidied the kitchen, and headed to the bathroom for her bath.

She loved the bathroom. A large, deep tub, a separate shower, countless scented soaps, bath salts, bath oils, shampoos, bubble bath, and soft, fluffy bath sheets, towels, and wash cloths. All of it spelled luxury to her, and she spent as much time in the tub as she could.

Filling the tub with lavender-scented bubble bath and hot water, Evey sank into the tub. After soaking for a minute, used a shower arm to soak her hair and began to massage shampoo into her scalp, feeling more human by the moment.

She had just rinsed her hair when the door opened, admitting V. Screeching, Evey ducked for cover under the bubbles, leaving only her head above water to shout at him.

"What do you think you're doing!" she demanded. "Get out!"

Instead of answering or leaving, V turned his back to her, removed his mask, leaned over the toilet, and was heartily sick.

"V?" Evey said, cautiously sitting up a little, looking at V's hunched back. "V? What's wrong?"

V continued to be sick, retching with such horrifying sounds that concern overcame Evey's better sense and she left the tub, wrapping up in her robe and going to his side. "V? V?" she said, putting an arm around his shoulders while supporting him with her other hand. "Are you all right? What should I do? Can I do anything?"

A curtain of hair shielded his face from view, and he shook his head, still retching. At the moment, it seemed as if his illness was tapering off. His arms were still wrapped around his stomach, but finally, his stomach seemed to ease, and he relaxed. Wordlessly, he held out his hand for his mask. Evey handed it to him, he flushed the toilet, and she helped him to a chair in the living room.

"What happened?" she asked, worried.

"It seems they decided to fight me with chemical warfare," he muttered, sounding exhausted. "I go in, and all I can smell is rotting flesh. It seems that the refrigerators had broken down sometime in the last week, and all the meat in them had rotted."

Evey stared at him. "You were…shopping?"

He nodded. "Something like that," he admitted. "I'm amazed they couldn't smell it themselves. We'll be eating some vegetarian meals for a while. At least I was able to get everything else," he said, waving at a stack of packages on a nearby table.

Evey only glanced at them. "But are you all right?" she persisted. "I've never seen anyone so sick…"

"It just brought up some awful memories, that's all. I always have that reaction to that smell," he said, still sounding a little weak. "I'm fine. I see you found your robe."

Blushing, Evey drew it a little tighter around her neck and retied the belt. "Yes, thank you. It and the slippers and everything else are very nice. I just have one question, though," she said, looking at him. "How did you do all that in my room without me hearing or seeing you? I spend a lot of time in there."

Evey got the impression that he was smiling. "I usually do it while you're asleep, in one of the other rooms, or the bathroom. I can move quietly, and none of the furniture was very heavy. I figured that you'd like a nice, comfortable room to spend time in."

She nodded, understanding. "Thank you, V."

"You're welcome, Evey. Why don't you go back and finish your bath? I can put everything away. I'll be all right now."

Evey didn't need to be invited twice. With her hair and body still wet and her robe damp, it was _cold_ outside of the bathroom!

She ran a little more hot water, scrubbed, rinsed, and drained the tub. Slipping into her room by her private door, she dressed, rubbed her hair dry with a towel (oh, what she wouldn't give for a hair dryer!), combed it out, and went to rejoin V.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Evey often marveled at how much of a perfect gentleman V was. Since his renovations of her room, he always knocked before coming in, he never entered the bathroom while she was there, always stood when she entered a room, served her first at meals, and he often bowed over her hand when he bid her goodnight. He answered whatever question she asked, amused her with funny stories, and left out movies, books, and one-person games that he thought she'd like when he had to leave. A roll-top desk appeared in a spare corner of her room, and it was filled with different types of drawing paper, canvas boards, sketchbooks, paints, pastels, brushes, a palette, and pencils. There was even a table easel to balance her work on. Apparently, he'd seen that she'd been sketching on every scrap of paper she could find.

Evey also noticed that all the books on shelves in her room were just to her taste, and V had replenished the lavender-scented things in the bathroom since he noticed she preferred them. Candles scented with lavender, cinnamon, or roses were left for her to burn in her room, and a dish of potpourri appeared on her vanity. More than once he brought daisies (her favorite flower, although how he knew that made her wonder, for she had certainly never told him!) mixed with sprigs of lavender or red clover home, and they would usually end up in a glass vase on her bedside table so they would be the first thing she saw when she awoke in the mornings.

She knew all of these little touches were his way of apologizing for keeping her locked up with him, and even though she was very, very touched and had forgiven him, she wasn't going to let _him_ know it. After all, she was enjoying watching him squirm and being lavished with attention at the same time.

The irony of her situation didn't escape her: The best guy she'd ever met, and he turned out to be a knife-carrying, mask wearing vigilante who was number one on the government's most-wanted list, and he was keeping her prisoner to boot! (Also, he was probably a little crazy.) Still, he had saved her life more than once and was being absolutely wonderful to her. She could let bygones be bygones, but she wasn't about to let him off the hook just yet.

It was getting colder outside, and Christmas was coming. She could tell that due to the way the floor became ice-cold some mornings, and she noticed that V was putting down more and thicker rugs. Most of them were in dark shades of red, but they brightened the whole place up even more.

One morning, very close to Christmas, Evey headed to the kitchen for breakfast and got the surprise of her life when she saw that the living room had been redone. Garlands of pine branches, holly, and red velvet ribbon circled the walls near the ceiling, and a Christmas tree covered with glass ornaments, tinsel, white candles, and candy garland stood in the center of the room. Gathered around it like eager children were brightly- wrapped gifts with lots of ribbon and elaborately-penned cardboard tags that said _Evey_. Hanging on the tree was a cardboard sign that read, _Do not touch until December 25th._

Grinning, she went into the kitchen and found a be-aproned V, still preparing breakfast. It was ham, scrambled eggs, croissants, and fruit that morning, and his back was to her, making tea.

"Good morning!" she said, sitting down. "That tree is wonderful, V. I didn't know we were so close to Christmas!"

"Well, look who's all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," he remarked happily, setting the teapot on the table. "I'm glad you like it. It's December 22nd today, and I figured that it was close enough to Christmas to decorate. At least Creedy still approves of Christmas. No one notices Christmas purchases being made, or a stack of gifts ordered."

"Is all of that really for me?" she asked, thinking of the small mountain that waited to be ripped into.

He removed his apron and hung it on its hook. "Of course. I rather enjoy shopping for you, Evey, but I'm afraid I got a little carried away." He filled her plate with food and offered the dish of fruit to her. "You don't mind, do you?"

She looked at him, taking an orange. "Why should I mind being spoiled that much?"

He chuckled. "Point taken."

Space

The next few days were very fun. Evey, remembering her piano lessons, played Christmas carols (some of them blacklisted, like "Jingle Bell Rock") while she and V sung them at the top of their lungs. They spent the evenings watching old Christmas movies or reading stories to one another, and always there was something hot to drink. One evening, V brought a punchbowl full of snow from somewhere and they had a snowball fight that resulted in a few broken ornaments and puddles on the floor from melted snowballs.

Seeing the devastation, V started chuckling, and then slowly, it turned into full laughter, which ended with him on the floor, laughing his head off. His laughter was infectious, causing Evey to double up and drop to the floor beside him, giggling until she couldn't breathe.

"I…can't…breathe!" he gasped, holding his side. "My lungs…cannot…take in…oxygen! I need…CPR!"

Evey howled, holding her stomach, and seeing V kick his feet against the floor and laughing, she started screaming with laughter, unable to breathe herself.

"Must…have…air!" V croaked, getting to his feet but falling over again.

Evey screamed again, laughing at seeing the usually agile and graceful V reduced to a heap on the floor.

Slowly, they both calmed down, but usually a glance from the other was enough to set them off again. Evey went to bed that night, still giggling every time she thought of the whole episode, and somewhere in the Shadow Gallery, she could hear V's corresponding chuckle.

December 24th was very fun. Evey was up for breakfast at dawn, and for once, she beat V to the kitchen, so she fixed everything that was on the menu for that morning. She'd noticed that V always planned and wrote out the menu for a meal before they had it and left it on the table. That morning it was toad-in-the-hole, French toast, tea, and juice.

V wandered in as she was setting the table. He jumped half a mile at seeing her awake so early.

"Evey! Now honestly, I didn't bring you here intending for you to be my chef!" he protested.

"Oh, come on!" she said, waving him to his chair. "This is what, one breakfast out of how many?"

"Counting today? Forty-nine," he said as she finished the table.

She stared at him. "How do you remember things like that?"

He shrugged. "I suppose it's because I have a calendar in my head. It's never wrong, I'm afraid."

"That's amazing. No, it really is," she insisted when he tried to wave her comment away. "I've never seen anyone who could do that."

"Well, it takes all sorts," he said as they began breakfast.

That whole day they spent together. V and Evey played games, watched movies, argued over what was better: Phantom of the Opera or Batman. Evey was convinced that Phantom was, but V insisted it was Batman.

"But 'Phantom' is so much more romantic!" Evey insisted.

"Yes, but Batman is a great fighter," V said, not willing to be beaten.

"Men," Evey muttered. "Mention romance and they begin to back away in terror," she said, grinning as V allowed his surprise to show.

"Romance?" V said, recovering his equanimity. "Well, now that you mention it, I am in the mood…" he said, advancing on Evey. Slowly, surprised, she backed away and didn't stop until she bumped into the wall behind her.

"V…" she began, but he interrupted, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

"Now who's backed away in terror?" With that, he headed to the couch, chuckling.

She stood there, too shocked for words. "That's not funny!" she said, going after him. "That's not funny at all!"

V threw back his head and laughed. "I think it is!"

He was still laughing when she chucked a pillow at him, and that led to yet another pillow fight.

Space

That evening, they had a special dinner with champagne and candlelight, and afterwards, they danced to Christmas music. It was during Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" that V suggested they have another drink.

"All right by me," Evey said as the jukebox wound down. "I can use one. That champagne is fabulous, where do you get it from?"

"From Creedy's wine cellar," he said, filling her champagne flute. "He keeps the best in London."

Evey laughed, imagining V slinking into Creedy's house and robbing him.

V filled his own glass and held it up, preparing to make a toast. "To the merriest Christmas I've ever had," he said, as he bowed in her direction. More than a little surprised and pleased, she blushed. "I am so glad you're here to spend it with me, Evey, even though I've given you no choice in the matter."

Sensing his mood darkening, she leaned forward and clinked her glass against his. "Well, I am glad to be here to share it with you, V. This is the best Christmas I've had since I was a little girl. I mean that, truly."

Both of them drained their glasses and V spun her into a dance again, this time with "Carol of the Bells" playing. V could lead a pretty good waltz to any music written in three.

After that, it was "Bring a Torch, Jeannette, Isabella," "In Dulci Jubilo," "I Saw Three Ships," "What Child Is This?" "Silent Night," "Ave Maria," and "The Holly and the Ivy." By that time, Evey was exhausted. They had come to rest under an arch, just leaning against the wall and breathing.

"I have to say this is the most I've danced ever in my life," V said, very softly. "And, this is the happiest I've ever been."

At that, Evey had to look up at him and smile. She saw what he didn't: a sprig of mistletoe.

"V."

He looked at her.

"Look above your head."

He did so, and looked back at her. He wasn't ready when she pressed her lips to the mask.

"Merry Christmas."

Space

Evey was woken up in the morning by hearing the jukebox turned up as loud as it could go. Blaring into the open door of her room were the sounds of "Joy to the World." Laughing, she got out of bed, wrapped in her robe and pulled on her slippers and scooted out into the main room, where V was waiting for her, wearing a Father Christmas hat and holding out a tray of cranberry muffins.

"Merry Christmas, Father Christmas!" she cried, taking a muffin.

"Merry Christmas!" he answered. "Sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she said, bolting half the muffin, eager to get to other things. "That champagne put me right out."

"Me, too," he admitted, smiling at the way she seemed so eager. That was why, when she suddenly darted back into her room, he was surprised.

She came back out again, bearing a large, flat box that was wrapped in white paper with trees and bells painted on it.

"Merry Christmas, V," she said, handing him the box after he had set down the muffin tray. "It's really several small presents, but I could only find the one box."

"I…I…" he spluttered. "Evey…I…" he stopped and took a breath. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

"You haven't even opened it yet. Go on!" she urged. "You first, I want to know if you like it!"

Sinking onto the couch, with Evey beside him, V slowly undid the paper and opened the box. Inside, there were drawings and paintings of…him. There was a drawing of him fencing, a painting of him at the piano, and even a sketch of him cooking in the apron she was always teasing him about! There were several views of him in a series of black and white sketches on one large sheet, and there was even a picture of him in profile with his hat and cloak on. There was one drawing in ink and pastels where he was in his favorite chair next to the jukebox, listening to some music with his head tilted back slightly in appreciation. Finally, a last painting, one where he was conducting Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" on a rooftop with the sky behind him alight with stars.

"I don't know what to say," he croaked, fighting tears. "I really don't. This is all…wonderful, Evey. Absolutely wonderful."

He had to keep staring at them, looking at one after the other and then beginning again. The picture of him on the rooftop was what surprised him the most. The way she had him holding his arms seemed to say "Look what I can do! Just look!" and all of the stars seemed to shine in support of him.

"You really like them?" Evey said happily.

"I am touched beyond all description," he said, taking her hands in his. "Even if I said thank you a thousand times, that would only be a beginning of the joy I feel now."

Evey blushed a fierce red, pleased and glad that he liked the projects she'd been working on for the past several weeks. She'd known Christmas was coming, and she'd wanted to give him something, and what better than some pictures when he had no one else to take them for him with a camera? Besides, personally drawn portraits were always special, and everyone liked having them.

"I'll have to frame some of these," he said, looking at them. "This one, however," he said, holding up "1812," "goes in my bedroom."

Evey laughed, pleased at the praise.

"Now you," he said, leading her over to the tree. The _Do not touch until December 25th_ sign was gone. "This one first!" And he placed a large gift in her hands, urging her to open it.

What followed was a massacre of wrapping paper that would never be matched again. V must have broken his bank account, because what Evey found in every gift was something beautiful. There were cashmere sweaters, knit turtlenecks, silk blouses, separates sets, pressed slacks, flowery flowing skirts with peasant blouses, jeans, loafers, boots, sandals, a complete set of makeup in every color she would ever need, a manicure kit, a pearl necklace and earring set, a sapphire brooch, three bottles of perfume (lavender, rose, and jasmine scents) and a silver hairbrush, comb, and hand mirror set. There were also hair things: chopsticks, a bun cage, butterfly clips, elastics, and a pair of jeweled combs.

That wasn't all. He'd found, in her size, several sets of silk pajamas, silk and cotton nightgowns, underwear and bras (how had he known her sizes for _those_? To his vast amusement, she blushed a fierce red that would not abate), slips and shifts and finally, a fluffy teddy bear.

"My goodness," she said, looking at the pile. "How…?"

"Well, since I'm not able to go to your apartment to get your things for you, I decided to get you some new things. Do you like them?"

"I am the most wonderfully spoiled woman in the world," she said, still sounding dazed. "Oh, V, thank you. It doesn't seem enough to just _say_ thank you. How can you _afford_ all this?"

"Oh, I have my bank account, just like anyone else," he said, sounding as if he were smiling. "You're not to worry."

She nodded, staring at all of the gifts she had been given.

"What's this?" V said, fishing a small package out from underneath the mound of wrapping paper. "We forgot one."

Evey opened it, wondering how V could find something else to give her. Inside the paper was a book in blue leather binding, and when she looked at the title, she read _Evey's Journal._ Inside were fine cream pages, lined with India ink, and it was clear that V had made it himself. On the flyleaf she read, _For Evey, wherever she goes her whole life long._

It was that line that made her cry, and she hugged V, laughing and crying at the same time. Suddenly, he was hugging her back and laughing and crying too.

They spent the entire day together, just chatting or sitting together in silence. They watched "The Count of Monte Cristo" before having dinner (roast goose, scalloped potatoes, dressing, greens, fruit compote, pumpkin pie, spice cake, red wine, white wine, and champagne) and afterwards, they sat together, watching a movie that V would not tell her the title of until it was on. When she saw it was "Phantom of the Opera," she smiled at him. Sipping hot cider, they both fell asleep on the couch to strains of Andrew Lloyd Webber's music.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Mayhem to my reviewers!

musiclover106--Yeah, when I saw the movie, I loved the time they spent together and felt they needed more. Thanks for reading!

The Mistress of Mischief--I'm glad you like it.

sailormoonfan4ever40--No, Chapter 3 wasn't the last chapter. This story is nowhere near finished!

Gerfan--Yeah, I know what you mean. I like stories with Christmas in them, too.

Kai Fong--Hey, pillows can be painful! Thanks for adding me to your favorites!

Gnome--Why, thank you! I'm so glad you like it!

Klashfor--(sniffs) Thank you! I'm so glad I'm doing a good job!

ShadowVixen--(sniffs again) I think I'm going to cry!

SerasGrace--Why, thank you, thank you! I'm happy you like it!

Jinxeh--As long as it's not excessive, it's supposed to be okay. Others do it, I've seen it.As for "Space," that's just my thing.As for fluffiness...what's wrong with fluffy?

Chapter 4

About a week after New Year's, Evey began to get a little stir-crazy. She'd been there since the beginning of November, and now it was the beginning of January. She felt as if she'd read every book, watched every movie, played every game, examined every novelty, painting, or statue in the place; and now, she was heartily bored and longing for something different.

It didn't help that V kept going out all the time, either. Since the holidays were over, Creedy's bloodhounds began to work even harder and stir up more trouble, so V was constantly out, getting their dander up and leading them on wild goose chases all over London. He was constantly several steps ahead of them, and from what Evey could tell from V's stories, was in high dudgeon and calling for his blood.

Fingermen, also, were causing trouble. Women were beginning to be harassed all the time, and fingermen were overstepping their orders when it came to questioning witnesses. More than once V had to "step in," as he put it, and deal with the problem.

Evey tried not to resent V for keeping her there, but it was like telling a fire not to burn. She couldn't help thinking that while he was out having all of his fun, she was stuck in the house. It reminded her of when she was six years old and had had to stay inside one Saturday because she'd been bad that morning.

She was on the verge of telling V how she felt when he brought home a surprise: a case of books that had been recently blacklisted, and some of them were science fiction novels. The reason they'd been blacklisted was because of the author's portrayal of characters who felt that there was no God, and believed that religion had been a passing social illness that lasted for a few thousand years. Evey spent a happy couple of weeks reading these books, enjoying their adventures while they colonized a new planet and dealt with the extraordinary dangers there when they learned that a strange new life form found humans to be the perfect servants. After the first book, Evey followed generations of these characters as they fought subjugation and sought their freedom. Finally, the series ended, with the characters winning away from the other species (the number of humans being too great to fight), which only grudgingly accepted the humans' declaration of independence. Evey suspected that the constant fight against subjugation in the books had also put Creedy's dander up.

"Did you ever read the Camden novels, V?" Evey asked one evening at dinner.

"I did, some years ago," he admitted, serving up some cassoulet. "Back then, they were lauded for the supposed supremacy of humans over other creatures, but feeling toward them has changed since then, I'm afraid."

"Did you like them?"

Pouring some wine, he considered her question. "Yes, I liked them very much. Not because of the constant fighting, but because the characters were so human, so personable. This surprises you?" he said, seeing Evey's skeptical expression. "It's true. Sometimes, you don't always have to think of the cause you've dedicated yourself to. To think too much of it is to develop an obsession, and developing an obsession is the first step to insanity. It's healthier to keep some time for yourself. Sometimes, it's nice to kick back and be an average V."

Evey had to smile. She had seen V relaxing the other night with some Merlot: he'd been lounging in his favorite chair, feet kicked up on a stool, the glass of Merlot in his hand. She remembered what he'd said, and how much she'd laughed after they'd both gone to bed. "Ah, Creedy, if you weren't such a despicable human being, I would laud you for your taste in wine!" V regularly came home with a few bottles of Creedy's best, usually straight from the wine cellar.

"So what did you like so much?" Evey wanted to know.

V seemed thoughtful. "Well, no matter what happened most of the characters were able to take some time to joke and be people. You had Merrick, who was such a jokester, remember him?"

Evey laughed, remembering. "Merrick was famous for his pranks, especially the one where he had tents falling, one after the other. It was like a demented domino effect!"

V chuckled. "Yes, he was funny, wasn't he? No matter what happened, Merrick was there to make people smile. He said it was his life's calling."

The conversation turned then to other characters, and from there, it continued to other books that V had brought home. By the time dinner finished, Evey was too tired to tell V about her frustration.

Space

Once the books were all read, Evey again had time on her hands. Since V took care of most of the meals (except the occasional lunch Evey was able to snag), handled all the cleaning (even thought Evey never _saw_ him clean), and did the shopping, she had very little to do. In fact, she had nothing to do. She lost interest in her drawing and painting, and she began to poke at her food during meals. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have realized that she was in a deep depression that was quickly growing worse.

Evey waited for V to come home one evening in the middle of February. She had to talk to him, and she certainly wasn't going to wait until the morning! She paced the Shadow Gallery, ready to snap, feeling more and more savage by the moment. When V at last came in at one in the morning, she let him have it.

"High time!" she snapped as he walked in, carrying a box and a few paper-wrapped packages. "I have to talk to you!"

He looked at her. "To judge from the flashing eyes, flaring nostrils, furrowed brow, and heaving chest; it's something that has you very angry, am I right?" he said lightly.

"This is _serious_, V!" she snarled. "I'm _sick_ of being cooped up here night and day! I realize that yes, you're stuck here too because you're a vigilante and all of that, but that's _your _choice! Creedy has to have given up on me by now, and I'm tired of being here! I want to go!"

V regarded her coolly. "And what if I say you can't?" he said, very calmly. "After all, Evey, you don't know the way out."

She glared at him. "You're going to show me, or…" she trailed off ominously.

"Or you'll do what? Glare at me? Not speak to me? Hole up in your room? Try to punish me by some equally silly method? Please, Evey. You're not a child, and having a tantrum won't make me allow you to put yourself in danger."

She continued glaring. "If you show me the way out, you can be certain I'll keep my mouth shut about this place," she said icily. "But if I have to search for it on my own, as soon as I'm out, I'll go straight to Creedy and tell him everything!"

V went very still, but just as suddenly, his demeanor thawed. "Well, I'll have to make certain you won't find it, then. It's very well hidden already, but I'll be on my guard now."

It was too much. Seething with rage, Evey grabbed the nearest thing and hurled it at V, screeching in frustration. He caught the silver candlestick easily, but almost dropped it as the delicate Queen Anne table it had been standing on followed close behind it. He set both things down, placing the candlestick just so on the table.

"Why, thank you, Evey," he said as nonchalantly as if she'd just handed them to him. "I'd been meaning to move this table anyhow."

Evey lost it, and pandemonium broke out. Pillows, books, curios, couch cushions, small objects (none too few of them breakable and expensive), and even V's favorite chair flew through the air at him, and V was quite the circus act, catching them all and setting them down gently. By the time she'd thrown everything she was able to throw, the room looked quite different.

"Well, this is much better. Thank you, my dear," V said, looking around at the newly rearranged room.

Evey, letting out a small scream of frustration, stalked into the kitchen, where V heard glass break. Rushing to the doorway of the kitchen, V saw Evey standing there, glaring at a broken glass near her foot.

"Did you throw that, too?" he joked.

Evey threw the salt shaker at him. "No! I was going to get a drink, but I dropped it!"

"Just so long as you don't 'drop' the bone china," he commented.

A colander followed, as did a wok, rolling pin, and serving plate. He wasn't able to catch them. Two clangs, a bang, and a shatter later, V was beginning to wonder if the solitude had done a number on the girl's mind.

Evey stalked out past him, heading back toward the living room, kicking a couch cushion like a soccer ball. V followed, wondering what to say to her. It was clear that she was near some kind of breaking point, and he had to defuse the situation before she really lost it. But how?

"Evey," he began, just as she reached the spot where he'd first been standing. "I know it's hard…"

"You don't care!" she screamed at him. "You don't care that my whole life was just taken away from me! Look, I helped you, yes, but that didn't make you responsible for me! I don't need a knight in shining armor, I can take care of myself!"

"I never said that I was taking care of you," he pointed out. "Just helping you, that's all."

"Did I ask you to?" she demanded, throwing another cushion at him. "Did I?"

"No, but I couldn't let the person who had saved my life be caught by Creedy," he said calmly. "That would be a most unsuitable way of thanking her, wouldn't it?"

"And _this_ is thanking me? Keeping me here? I'd have been locked up anyway with Creedy!" she shouted, snatching up the box he'd carried in, getting ready to throw it.

"Not that!" V cried, trying to stop her. "Don't throw that!"

"Why?" she demanded. "Is it part of your all-important plans? Should I shake it a little first, just for good measure?"

"Just…look inside it, Evey. I was saving it for later, but maybe it's better for you to see it now."

His tone mystified Evey, and wondering what it was, sat down to open the box. Inside was a tiny white kitten with a red collar. In place of a license tag, there was a red heart with the words, _Happy Valentine's Day, Evey._

Evey stared at it, then lifted it out of the box and put it on her lap. The kitten looked up at her with friendly blue eyes as V took the box and set it underneath the couch, out of the way. Entranced, Evey scratched the kitten on the top of its head and found herself smiling when it began purring.

"Valentine's Day?" she said, reading the tag. "Is it Valentine's Day already?"

"Well, it is now," he said, sitting down on the couch too. "It's one-thirty. Do you like her, Evey?"

Evey looked tearful. "V, I--I--don't know what to say."

"It's all right, Evey," he said. "I understand. It didn't occur to me how bored you would be. You see, since I am always busy, I didn't realize that you would have very little to do. I understand."

Such quiet acceptance was too much, and Evey started sniffling. She continued sniffling until V handed her a handkerchief, which the kitten batted at, trying to catch it. Evey laughed, seeing how playful it was.

"What will you call her?" V asked.

"I don't know," Evey said, wiggling the handkerchief so the kitten could "mouse" it. "She has to have the perfect name, though."

While they cleaned up the Shadow Gallery, they shot names back and forth, trying to find one that fit. Queenie, Lady, Duchess, Princess, Angel, Snowy, Snowball, Baby, Angel Cake (that was suggested by V, who said she was as white as an angel food cake), and Victoria (from the musical CATS) were all suggested and summarily rejected. Sugar didn't make the cut either, or Powderpuff or Fluffy. Baby? No. Sweetiepie? No. Mischief? Maybe, but it didn't fit the kitten's sweet nature. Trouble? No.

"How about HPL?" V suggested, placing his chair back where it belonged.

"HPL?"

"Hairball Projectile Launcher."

"Um, no."

Once the house was clean, they headed to the kitchen to make hot cocoa. V had pulled out a bag of marshmallows when Evey shouted "That's it!"

"What's it?" V gasped, spinning around, scattering marshmallows everywhere. "What's wrong?"

"That's the kitten's name!" Evey said, beaming. "Marshmallow!"

"Marshmallow?" V echoed, looking down at the kitten. She had left Evey's lap and was pouncing on the marshmallows that littered the kitchen floor, happily chewing on the pretend "mice." "You know, I think it fits. Marshmallow, with Marshie for short."

"Marshie, Marshie!" Evey called, holding out her hand. The kitten came running toward her, and she picked it up, laughing. Not to be outdone, V fetched a wooden spoon.

"Let's name her properly now," he admonished, bringing the spoon to rest on the kitten's shoulder. With great aplomb, he tapped her on her right and then left shoulder with the spoon. "I hereby dub and christen thee Marshmallow."

Evey laughed while the kitten just purred, apparently content with her new name.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my sister, Shadowsylvia. Because she wouldn't stop bugging me for a new chapter.

Chapter 5

With Marshie, life in the Shadow Gallery became much easier for Evey. She looked forward to getting up in the morning and playing with her pet, and she always had a good laugh watching the cat and V square off for attention. Often, Marshie would snitch part of V's dinner, take over his chair, and curl up on top of the jukebox, not allowing him to get near it to play a song.

"I regret bringing that infernal furball here," he muttered as Marshie swiped at him. "Sometimes I think Creedy would be more kind."

Evey laughed. "Oh, V, it's not that bad," she said. "She just isn't sure what is allowed and what isn't. I've been trying to train her, but it's slow going."

"Not that bad?" V echoed. "Not that bad? Did you wonder why she didn't sleep in your room last night?"

"It had crossed my mind," Evey admitted. "I figured she didn't feel like it."

"Well, my dear, it's because she was in _my _room last night, on _my_ pillow and jealously guarding _my_ bed from any and all invaders, especially the rightful owner!" he said, sounding thoroughly put out. "I slept on a couch last night."

V's mock-hurt and his tone made Evey laugh again, and she patted his shoulder. "Oh, poor V. I'll make sure she goes to bed with me in the future."

V thanked her but glared at the cat. "It wouldn't bother me so much if she would show a scrap of remorse, but no. She isn't sorry at all. Furball."

Evey could tell that V secretly adored Marshie and let it go at that. He only liked to pretend that he was upset because it made Evey ask what was wrong.

Evey noticed that V was always trying to get her attention. She didn't know what to make of that, but it amused her most of the time. She would laugh and talk with him, or pretend to be annoyed and too busy to be bothered, which led to V trying even more hilarious ways to get her to notice him. One evening, after he had come in from an errand, he draped himself in his chair and sat there, moaning that he was dying. Alarmed, Evey ran to him and asked what the matter was, but V's chuckle let her know the truth.

That little stunt earned V a punch on the arm and Evey's not speaking to him for the rest of the night.

It wasn't all fun, games, and laughter, however. They still butted heads over certain issues (such as V not allowing her to go) and they disagreed on certain things (who was the greater master, Van Hals or Rembrandt, Chuck Jones or Charles Schulz) but all in all they managed to get along and avoid killing one another. They still played chess and other games together, and still argued good-naturedly over who had rightfully won. Other nights, they would watch movies, and often V would surprise Evey by quoting whole scenes of dialogue verbatim. Once, V quoted Romeo's speech to Juliet not to Evey, but to Marshie. That sent Evey into paroxysms of laughter, since V knelt before Marshie and ardently kissed her paw at the end of the speech. Marshie was so perplexed that she only stared at V, wondering what the crazy human was doing.

Space

One evening late in April, Evey waited for V to come home. To pass the time, she played with Marshie. V had brought home lots of cat supplies and toys within days of Marshie's arrival, and Evey loved teasing Marshie with the toys. There was a catnip-stuffed mouse (which drove Marshie insane), a bundle of feathers on a string, a miniature scratching post with a long spring and a pom-pom on the end that waved back and forth, and several little plastic balls with bells to roll so Marshie could chase and pounce on them.

Evey was rolling a ball for Marshie when V arrived, soaking wet and looking much the worse for wear.

"V!" Evey cried, surprised. "What happened? Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I'm just very sore and very wet. I had to jump into the river to get away, and it was very cold. I'm going to go warm up with a hot bath and dry clothes, but thank you for waiting up for me."

Evey nodded. "No problem. I'll make you some tea and soup. You must be freezing!"

"Well, the water was not warm," he remarked, heading to the bathroom.

Quickly Evey made some tea and left it to steep on a burner while she threw one of V's homemade soup mixes into a pot with some water. Once it was hot, she poured it into a bowl and set the teapot on the tray on the table. V wandered in a few minutes later, looking warmer.

"That's better," he said, sitting down as Evey poured him some tea. He didn't speak until he'd finished the soup and tea, and then he leaned forward and held his head in his hands as if it hurt.

"Are you okay?" Evey asked.

"My head hurts. I think I'm going to have to go to bed."

Evey nodded. "All right. You go ahead and lie down. I'll clean up."

V nodded his thanks and headed to his room. Evey was just putting the dishes in the sink when she heard V come back.

"Do you think you could coax the cat off my pillow, Evey?" he asked hopefully.

Space

Evey woke up the next morning and stared in shock at the alarm clock on her nightstand.Nine-thirty in the morning! She never slept that late, and if she did, V always woke her up by at least nine to tell her that breakfast was getting cold! Why hadn't he come to wake her up?

Evey jumped out of bed, pulled on her robe and slippers, and headed to the kitchen to see why V hadn't woken her, but when she got there it was obvious that V had not been in the kitchen that morning. There was nothing on the table, stove, or countertop, and V had not even written out a menu. Where on earth was V?

Cautiously, she made her way to V's bedroom. She'd never been in there before since V had never invited her, but she had to see if he was there. She'd only had glimpses of it before this, and that included last night, when V only held the door open long enough for Marshie to come out. She approached the door, wondering what she would do if V wasn't there, but felt relieved when she heard a cough. He was there. Feeling much better (and wondering why she did), Evey knocked on the door.

The voice that answered was ghastly. "Come in."

Evey opened the door and poked her head in. Seeing V still in bed, she went to his side and looked down at him. "Are you all right, V?"

V looked up at her. "I think I caught something last night," he said, still sounding awful. "Could you do me a favor, Evey?"

She nodded.

"Cut off my head?"

That made Evey smile. "Oh, you. You have a headache? Joints ache? Sore throat? Anything else?"

V nodded. "Yes to the first three, and in addition to that, my chest feels as if it's on fire."

"Okay," Evey said, a little perplexed. "It sounds to me as if you have a bad case of the flu. I'll get you set up, and then I'll fix you something to eat."

"Thank you," he rasped as Evey headed off.

She set V up with a hot drink first, and then did an exploration of the bathroom to find a vaporizer. Having found that, she set it up, found some Vicks, and tackled V's chest. He protested that he could very well put the Vicks on himself, but Evey told him that that was nonsense and to hold still. He seemed much more comfortable once the vapors hit him and the vaporizer was turned on. Evey went and fixed him some scrambled eggs, toast, and some apple juice (he was sick, after all. No eggs benedict for him!) and spent the rest of the morning fetching and carrying for V.

V was not a good patient, Evey learned that right off. He complained that he was bored and that he was dying, and he coughed so much that Evey was worried. She was worried until she realized that he was doing it for sympathy, and she told him to knock it off or he'd hurt that gorgeous voice of his.

Flattering him worked. V seemed to perk up when she offered to read to him, and she spent a good hour reading from Dickens' "Hard Times." After that, they played chess, and Evey lost with good grace.

"I must be sick," V said. "Even worse, I must be dying."

Evey looked at him, confused. "What makes you think that? You're not dying."

"Well, I must be. You _never_ let me win without an argument."

Evey had to laugh at that. While V entertained Marshie Evey went to fix some lunch for the both of them. While she was cooking, she thought about what a good decorator V was. V's room had been a surprise to Evey: instead of dark mystery and intrigue, like she'd expected, it was tasteful and pleasant. There were rugs on the floor, whitewash on the walls, and shelves full of books. Most of the lighting was indirect ambience lighting, but Evey noticed that he had a few good reading lamps. There were comfy armchairs and a chaiselounge, and there was a wardrobe over in the corner. There were a few pictures on the walls and a few scented candles on the mantlepiece, but beyond that, there was little else. Obviously, the room's purpose was rest.

Evey spent the afternoon with V in the cinema room watching _The Count of Monte Cristo _and other movies, and when they were not watching movies, they would talk about them. V seemed in a classical mood that afternoon, since besides his favorite movie he chose _The Magic Flute, Madame Bovary, _and _Pride and Prejudice._

Evey fixed supper for them both once the final movie was over, and together while they ate (V's throat was hurting again, so he was not disposed to talk much) they watched reruns of a show called MASH. It was about an American war and the hijinks and difficulties that these wartime doctors had. V laughed raspily at the funny parts and stayed silent during serious ones, and after the fourth episode, he seemed ready to go to bed. Evey saw him installed in bed and headed for her own, but V calling for her banished all thoughts of bed from her mind. Rushing back to his room, he saw V fending off Marshie.

"Could you please spare me from her attentions, Evey?" he asked.

Evey laughed and took Marshie off to her room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

V was slowly getting well from his case of flu, but he fretted at how long it was taking.

"What's so important that you feel you have to run yourself into the ground?" Evey asked, standing in the doorway of the lab and glaring at him. "You'll have a relapse, V."

"I'll be fine," he said shortly, his attention taken up by the project he was working on. He stared at the computer monitor while his fingers flew over the two keyboards he had in front of him. Diagrams flashed on the screen (they looked like floor plans) and every now and then a new file would open and begin to run.

"Well, all right, then," Evey said. "While you're doing that I'm going to take all of the films in your collection and make confetti out of them, and then I'll do the same to your books."

"That's fine," V told her, not paying any attention.

"After that Marshie and I are going to play target practice with the paintings."

"Have fun," V said, distracted by the program he was currently gazing at.

Evey muttered something and left the room, heading for her own. V was making her so mad! He was just barely better and already he was going full-tilt and acting as if he'd never been sick! He was going to be sick again, she just knew it, and ten to one he'd forgotten how worried she'd been the first time!

"Mrow!" Marshie said from the bed as Evey entered the room.

"Hello, Marshie," Evey said, flopping onto the bed and scratching behind the little cat's ears. "Why is it men are so stupid? Hmm?"

Marshie gave her a look which seemed to say, "Men are so stupid because women are the ones with all the brains, hon. That's just the way it is."

Evey just laughed, imagining Marshie launching into a diatribe against men (as any girl friend would do) and decided that if V was going to make himself sick all over again, she wasn't going to bother taking care of him. He'd have to do the best he could without her help.

Space

V did not get sick again. Instead, he seemed fine, much to Evey's annoyance. She would have _loved_ to say "I told you so," when his fever came back and he started feeling wretched again, but that was not to be. V didn't seem to notice that Evey was somewhat disappointed in his returned health, and that put her even more out of sorts than before.

V did notice, however, a change in Creedy's actions, and that change meant he was away from home much more than before. He seemed to come and go at odd hours, and once he was away for three days before showing back up in the Shadow Gallery.

Those three days were a nightmare for Evey. She was convinced that if V didn't come back, she would be trapped in the Shadow Gallery and she would slowly starve to death and never see another living soul besides Marshie again. She worried about V constantly, worried that he might have been captured, killed, or blown up in one of his ridiculous statements of defiance to Creedy. She could imagine V miscalculating some kind of explosive and it going off in his face, killing him and sending his mask spiraling up into the sky.

She began to curse her imagination when V came in, startling her.

"V!" she gasped, dropping into a chair with a white face. "V!"

"Evey, are you all right?" he asked, going quickly to her side, worried by the expression on her face.

A moment later a fist planted itself in his shoulder, knocking him on his rump.

"If you ever go away without telling me where you're going or what you're doing ever again, I'll kill you!" she shrieked. "Do you have any idea how _worried_ I've been? How _scared_? You could have been killed, and I would never have seen you again, and I would have been stuck here! I don't know the way out, and I wouldn't know how to let people know I was here!"

"You would have been fine," V said from the floor, looking up at her, very amused. Why did he like it so much when she got angry with him? Probably because it let him know that she cared about him, or because when she was angry her eyes flashed and looked exceedingly lovely.

"I would, huh?" she muttered, still glaring.

She was grinding her teeth. That meant she was extra-angry. "Yes," he insisted. "You see, the way out is hidden, but not so hidden that you wouldn't find it should you begin looking. There are signs that point the way out."

"Well, if there are signs, I've yet to see them, and I've _been_ looking for ages!" she snapped, getting up from her chair and going into the room. She even banged the door, a definite sign that she was not in a "let's talk about it" mood. V knew it would be better to leave her alone for a while.

He checked the time and found it was almost time to eat, so he went to the kitchen and began to make supper. He made pot-au-feu and fresh bread and waited for the aroma to draw Evey out of her room and into the kitchen. It didn't happen, however. She stayed in her room, and V began to pace back and forth, worrying. Perhaps she'd really had enough of staying with him. Perhaps he'd really kept her here too long. Maybe she needed to be set free.

But what about Creedy?

Leaving supper on the table, he went into his room and pulled out his journal. Not even bothering to write in the date he began to write his feelings about the current situation.

_I don't know what to do. I'm keeping her here for her protection, but she doesn't want to stay. She's afraid of being trapped here, but doesn't she realize by now that nothing will happen to me? I'll always come back, and I can make that as a promise. Besides, if she left and Creedy's fingermen caught her, she would be trapped in a worse way, in a worse place, and she'd also be a liability to both of us. So, that means she'll have to stay. What more can I do to help her understand this? What more can I say to make her believe me?_

Neither one of them had supper that night, and Evey stayed in her room, despite V putting on _Phantom of the Opera_. That movie was usually enough to draw Evey out, but tonight it didn't work. She stayed where she was, and V was certain that she'd never speak to him again.

Space

"V?"

V woke, certain that he'd heard Evey's voice and wondering if he'd been dreaming it. Then, he realized that she was standing at the foot of his bed, looking down at him.

"Yes, Evey?" he said, sitting up and turning on a light. For once, he was glad he'd gone to sleep with his mask on. No point in her fainting away once the light was on.

"I want to apologize for getting so mad at you and acting the way I have been," she said, perching on the edge of the bed like a tired bird. "It's just that…although you're certain you'll always be able to come back, there might be a time when you can't—a tunnel may be blocked, or something. I wouldn't want you risking your neck coming back to get me out, especially if it would be dangerous or if people are after you. I understand about your wanting me to stay here: Creedy could get his hands on me, and neither of us can be certain I can keep this place a secret while being tortured. Still, I think it would be better if I knew the way out, just in case you can't come back."

"I understand, Evey, and thank you," V said, standing up and holding out his hand to her. "Come with me."

Evey took his hand and followed him through the Shadow Gallery to where a large painting of doors hung. It was a picture of all types of doors: small ones, large ones, simple ones, ornate ones, glass ones, wooden ones, and one open door that led to a sunny garden. V put his hand on the frame and pulled, and behind it was a door.

"That door leads out," he said, pointing to it. "It leads to the old subway tunnels and up to the ground. Just keep going up. Also, to the right there is a hallway that leads to a lift, and that will take you up to the roof, if you wish to go."

Evey's only reply was an arm around V's shoulders and a kiss on the mask's cheek.


End file.
